


All we are is wasting hours

by deepgreensea



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, not too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 10:18:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10242449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepgreensea/pseuds/deepgreensea
Summary: "They usually managed to part just fine, they’d say goodnight and McCoy would get up and leave without looking back. But sometimes they’d stand across from each other and let the tension build, daring each other to take the first step and do something stupid and reckless. They never would though, not actually. But somewhere along the way McCoy became a sucker for frustration, and he suspected Jim did too."





	1. Just once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _All we are is wasting hours_  
>  _Until the sun comes it's all ours_  
>  —'Say Goodbye', DMB

McCoy knew one of these days spending time in Jim’s quarters would become a bad idea.

Sometimes it was just little things. Their fingers would brush while their glasses clinked together. Their knees would touch while they sat next to each other on the couch.

And sometimes it was lot of big things, all at once, and McCoy swore he would never let it get that far again.

They usually managed to part just fine, they’d say goodnight and McCoy would get up and leave without looking back. But sometimes they’d stand across from each other and let the tension build, daring each other to take the first step and do something stupid and reckless. They never would though, not actually. But somewhere along the way McCoy became a sucker for frustration, and he suspected Jim did too.

\---

They were saying goodnight, drawing it out, making small talk by the door because clearly they hadn’t reached the peak of sexual tension they were capable of just yet.

McCoy stepped closer, wondering whether Jim would pull him into a hug again like he had the previous week. When they had to keep their hips apart and McCoy had to count to ten and force himself to step away before they toppled over an edge there was no coming back from.

McCoy was stalling — waiting for something, anything — and he ran his fingers lightly over Jim’s hair and made some comment about how long it was getting. Jim’s lips parted and he whimpered, and McCoy didn’t have the sense to leave it at that.

“You like that?” McCoy whispered breathily, repeating the gesture but letting his fingers run through this time, nails grazing Jim’s scalp.

“Yeah.”

Jim closed his eyes and trembled, and McCoy stepped up closer and let Jim’s head fall to his shoulder. Need and anticipation had been building for so long they now amplified every touch to almost unbearable levels of pleasure. And McCoy’s fingers running through Jim’s hair had Jim moaning and going slack against him. McCoy started silently counting to ten again, slowing down every time Jim shuddered or gasped. He was halfway when Jim’s hands landed on his hips and burned desire into his too-sensitive skin. He hadn’t even started up again when Jim’s mouth was open against his neck, tongue and teeth moving frantically against his skin.

“Jim— Jesus don’t do that.” He pulled back and held Jim’s face in his hands, inches from his own. Jim looked debauched and desperate. “We can’t do more.”

“Just once Bones. Please.”  

“Jim.” He hated that he was the stronger one this time. He wanted to be the one begging, the one losing all semblance of control. It was easier than saying no.

“Just kiss me once.”

McCoy pressed his lips to Jim’s cheek and whispered against his skin, “We can’t Jim.”

They stayed like that for a second before something snapped and he pulled Jim closer, right up against himself until he could feel everything. Jim’s heart racing against his chest, Jim’s hardness pressed up dangerously close to his own. He didn’t bother to count this time, he wanted to burn the feeling into his skin for later — when he was lying in his bed naked and alone with his eyes shut tight picturing the perfect curve of Jim’s mouth.

Jim started pulling away first, traces of reason trickling back with every deep breath he was forcing himself to take. Looking into his eyes McCoy could see the storm was clearing, and he hoped that every time it passed it wasn’t secretly taking pieces of their resolve away with it.

He brushed his thumbs over Jim’s jaw before leaning in and pressing his lips resolutely to the corner of Jim’s. “Night Jim,” he whispered, again into his skin.

He felt Jim’s lips move, chasing his own with one last attempt before pulling away completely.

“Night Bones.”


	2. No one needs to know

McCoy lay in bed wondering how much closer they would come to messing it all up the next time, because there would definitely be a next time. He craved and dreaded it in the same breath. He wondered how much longer their need to be together — on the same starship, sharing meals and drinks and occupying the same space — was going to be greater than their need to be  _together_. Because  _together_  would mean apart. And that scared McCoy more than being in space ever had.  _Together_  would mean someone else looking out for Jim while McCoy was light years away, some other doctor patching him up when he got hurt, some other doctor with their  _hands_  on him.

Most days it was okay, and most nights it was bearable. But not these nights. Not nights where he could still feel where Jim touched him. And not tonight, not when he knew what Jim’s mouth felt like on his neck. He traced the spot with his fingers, inhaling sharply as he imagined where else he would feel it now if he hadn’t stopped Jim.

He turned his head in the direction of Jim’s quarters, running his fingers further down his chest and wondering whether they’d still be fucking if he’d stayed. Whether they’d have managed to take it slow and he’d still be inside Jim, or whether they’d have done it against the wall by the door and be lying half-clothed and panting on the floor now.

His fingertips were inching under the waistband of his briefs when his door opened. He didn’t even flinch, merely lifting up onto his elbows to see what he already knew — that it was Jim. In full uniform, because the captain of a starship couldn’t be caught wandering into his CMO’s quarters in the middle of the night in anything but.

Jim didn’t say anything as he made his way to the bed, stopping only to pull off his shirt and his shoes. McCoy stayed silent too, knowing he was too hard to think straight let alone say anything useful.

They hadn’t done this before. Goodnight meant goodnight. It meant McCoy would go back to his quarters and toss and turn until he gave in and got off imagining Jim’s mouth in place of his hand. And he hoped and imagined that Jim did the same. They weren’t in the habit of coming back for more when it was already too much.

But he lay back motionless and watched Jim getting closer, watched him climbing on the bed and crawling forward. He breathed in sharply as Jim straddled him, far down enough to fall just short of where McCoy needed to feel him.

“Jim—” McCoy breathed more than spoke the word before swallowing hard, “—this isn’t gonna end well.”

Jim didn’t reply, instead smoothing his hands up McCoy’s sides before tracing maddening patterns across his bare chest. McCoy wondered fleetingly whether maybe this didn’t do to Jim what it did to him, but looking up at Jim’s eyes he saw awe and lust and trepidation. When Jim’s wandering hands found the top of his briefs McCoy sat up, grabbing Jim’s hands and holding them tight on either side of them.

He wanted to say something, but not as badly as he wanted to keep quiet and let Jim to push him over the line someone else had drawn for them.

Jim’s lips dragged across McCoy’s cheek and to his ear, and he rolled his hips forward and whispered, “No one needs to know Bones.”

McCoy didn’t know whether it was the words or the feeling of Jim’s hardness finally pressed against his own or the agonising eternity they’d spent doing this thing, but he grabbed Jim — flipping him over and pressing his body into the bed with the weight of his own. Their open lips found each other and they kissed messily, McCoy forgetting how to move his mouth and concentrating instead on the frantic grinding of their hips.

He’d imagined it happening a hundred different ways and there was almost always a bit more finesse, but in his dreams it was exactly like this. Raw and clothed and desperate. Jim came first, barely pausing before shoving his hand into McCoy’s briefs. It didn’t take much, the sensation of Jim’s hand on his cock alone was enough to send McCoy over the edge.

McCoy could have laid for hours on top of Jim, listening to his breathing and his heartbeat, but there wasn’t time for that. Jim hadn’t said it, he didn’t need to, but the  _‘just once’_  he’d muttered so desperately a few hours earlier still applied. It was just tonight, it could  _only_  be tonight, and there was still so much he wanted to do. So he lifted himself up and kissed Jim lightly and whispered that they should go clean up.

—

They undressed each other gently, stood under the running water and kissed. Slowly and properly, finally. McCoy relished every second of tenderness they could afford now, in the quiet time between the fireworks. Because at the first twitch of Jim’s cock McCoy was on his knees, mouthing and licking and sucking while Jim’s fingers struggled to find purchase in his wet hair. It wasn’t long before Jim pulled him up, turning them around and pressing McCoy into the wall, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking until McCoy was back to painfully hard.

They didn’t bother towelling off, already swept up in the next wave, and McCoy thought they’d be lucky if they made it back to the bed before it dragged them under. But they did make it, and McCoy straddled Jim and finally understood the look of awe he’d seen in Jim’s eyes earlier. He was finally allowed to touch. Only tonight, but it was  _allowed_.

It was overwhelming and still not enough, and he kissed Jim and asked, “What do you want?”

“Anything, fuck—” Jim rolled his hips and dug his fingers into McCoy’s back. “I want you to do everything to me.”

McCoy’s stomach flipped and he mouthed  _‘Jesus’_  before giving Jim a much filthier kiss. He tried to not think about whether there would be enough time for ‘ _everything’_. Instead he worked Jim open, kissing him and whispering things in his ear that he’d never let himself repeat again. Jim moaned and whispered back things that sounded far too sweet.

When he finally pushed inside Jim tears stung his eyes at the intensity. He wanted to go fast and hard so he could lose his mind in how fucking perfect Jim felt around him. But his body refused and he moved infuriatingly slowly, and Jim broke under him with every drawn-out thrust and lingering kiss, trying to still McCoy’s hips and make him go even slower. He sped up only when Jim’s loud breaths turned to gasps and groans and he loosened his hold.

McCoy murmured that he was close and Jim grabbed his cock and started stroking, pleading with McCoy to wait for him because he was so close too. They came hard and together, just like they did every time McCoy imagined it. Jim savoured it this time, rocking and shuddering against McCoy’s boneless body lying on top of his.

They stayed like that much longer this time, until Jim rolled them over to where the bed was still dry. He cleaned them up and got back in, pulling the sheets over them and moulding their bodies together. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Jim wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to fuck hard and fast until they were too exhausted to think about what they’d done, and then Jim was supposed to slip out so McCoy would pretend it was all a dream when he woke up. They weren’t supposed to do  _this_.

Jim whispered that McCoy should sleep, that he’d wake him up when he left, but McCoy hoped that he wouldn’t. Waking up alone was better than watching Jim get dressed, better than the awkwardness that would follow when they’d look at each other and wonder whether they should kiss one last time. Better than how it would feel when they decided not to.

He breathed out slowly and tried to let it go. Right now it was still dark and warm and quiet, Jim was lazily stroking his skin, and McCoy felt spent and relaxed and a bittersweet kind of happy.

This was good, but it couldn’t be as good as being by Jim’s side every single day. Later he’d have to forget how Jim felt and tasted and they’d go back to smiles and glances and illicit touches and he’d spend long nights remembering the time when, just once, they let  _together_  win out over together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combining [tumblr](https://trekdreams.tumblr.com) prompts is now my signature move, which is how this came about. Thanks to everyone who encouraged and indulged me :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is appreciated :)


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